I presume you mean this one - courtesy of Country Joe and the Fish at Woodstock

Feel Like I'm Fixin' To Die Rag

Come on all of you big strong men, Uncle Sam needs your help again, He's got himself in a terrible jam, Way down yonder in Vietnam, So put down your books and pick up a gun, We're gonna have a whole lot of fun!

Chorus And its l, 2, 3, What are we fighting for? Don't ask me, I don't give a damn Next stop is Vietnam, And its 5, 6, 7, Open up them pearly gates, There ain't no time to wonder why, Whoopee! We're all gonna die!

Come on generals, let's move fast, Your big chance has come at last, Now you can go out and get those Reds, The only good Commie is one that's dead, You know that peace can only be won When we've blown 'em all to kingdom come!

Come on Wall Street, don't be slow, Why man this is war Au-go-go, There's plenty good money to be made Supplying the army with tools of the trade, Just hope and pray if they drop the bomb They drop it on the Viet Cong!

Come on mothers, throughout the land, Pack your boys off to Vietnam, Come on fathers, don't hesitate, Send your sons off before its too late, You can be the first one on your block, To have your boy come home in a box.

I found other versions already here, but I didn't find the original Carson Robison version that I believe is where the later versions are derived. I do it in the key of C.

Open Up Them Pearly Gates (Carson Robison)

Chorus: Open up them pearly gates, open up them pearly gates, Open up them pearly gates for me, halleluiah-luiah When you hear that trumpet blast, I'll be comin' home at last, Open up them pearly gates for me.

Come on all you sinners, if you wanna get to heaven heaven, You'd better get right down on your knees and pray. All you gamblin' sinners, you'd better stop playin' "Seven-eleven" Get yourself prepared for judgement day.

I done had a vision, seen them pearly gates a-closin', closin' And I seen you sinners all outside. You better make your decision, pray that you'll be chosen, chosen; It's a gonna be too late; well you better lay down and die.

[chorus]

Go out to your chicken roost and ask yourself an honest question, And the Lord will know it if you lie. You better cut all them chickens loose or you're gonna die from indigestion, When you eat them stolen chicken pies.

Oh, take that keg of gin, dump it everything right in the river, Don't let old Satan stay your hand, And if you fill it up again, it'll eat a hole right in your liver, And the gate won't open, when, you reach that promised land.